


John: Be The Aggressor

by sparks-fly (thirdtimecharmed)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Porn, Red Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-31
Updated: 2011-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirdtimecharmed/pseuds/sparks-fly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just smut. Only smut. Be warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John: Be The Aggressor

            Your lips meet his, or his meet yours, and its like fireworks have gone off in your mind. His glasses press into your shades, dislodging them almost completely and you don’t even care as long as it means you can lean in more, connect more with him. You move the hand that’s on the wall beside his head to encircle his neck, and tilt his head more towards yours. He moans softly, and tightens his arms around your torso, causing you to smirk in satisfaction.

                    Instinctively, you deepen the kiss, knowing he’d never protest. He doesn’t. Instead he nearly collapses beneath you, leaning heavily on the wall, before lunging back to counter you with surprising urgency. You can’t stay in shock for long, though, as you’re too busy grasping him tightly to yourself, despite the fact that it doesn’t seem you can get any closer.

            He, surprisingly enough, is the first to nibble your lip tentatively, but he his swept off balance as you respond in kind, losing his footing on solid ground. You chuckle, briefly, breaking the kiss and steering you both quickly towards a sofa where you drop simultaneously and dive back in, the need for contact too much for even a brief separation.

                    Finally, here, you achieve dominance, sheer physical strength and intensity pushing him under you as he leans back, letting you crush him as your tongue slips between his lips. Heat spreads through you, even though you know you aren’t blushing, as you realize that he’s a surprisingly good kisser. Eventually, though, you have to come up for air.

            “Dave,” he pants, staring up at you with glazed eyes and dishevelled hair.

            “Yeah?” you reply, grinning unrepentantly. Your shades fell off somewhere along the line, and you don’t bother locating them. You don’t even look, because you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that as he locks eyes with you and his pupils dilate, he is transfixed. “You were saying something?” you add, smirking even further, but he doesn’t answer.

            Instead he lunges forward, latching his arms around your neck and dragging your chuckling form back into another kiss. The laughter dies out as everything suddenly becomes more intense and more needy, and his hands caress every inch of your back as he tries to somehow draw you closer. It isn’t possible. You are already pressed as close together as your clothing and physics will allow, your knee dipping between his legs, which encircle yours in an impossible tangle. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t extricate yourself now.

            Escape is the last thing on your mind, however, as your hand dips under his shirt to feel his torso, and you run a steady hand up his back. He shivers beneath you, and you grin briefly, satisfied your advances aren’t about to be turned away just yet. You remove your other hand from the back of his hand, and briefly push yourself up to let you push his tshirt past his chest. He cooperates, and it’s gone in an instant, leaving you a lot more room to work with. As you begin running kisses right down the middle of his chest, you feel a tug on the cuff of your own shirt and you look up.

            He’s grinning at you, of course, glasses askew on his face, barely covering eyes that glint in an obvious challenge.

            “It’s not really fair...” he says, trailing off and you laugh right back, shrugging out of your own shirt in barely an instant. You can’t help the brief flash of satisfaction you feel when his eyes widen as he takes you in, but you allow it to be short. There are other things you’d rather be doing right now.

            Normally you’d tire of things by now. The kisses would get stale, and the small noises of approval would sound stupid, but not this time. This time, as you mercilessly attack the hollow at the base of his throat, and the side of his neck, and behind his earlobe and any other place you can think to kiss, everything is just as intense and just as vivid. He can do little more than wriggle helplessly beneath you, incapacitated.

            Somehow, though, he comes back to himself long enough to force you back to him, to the point you began, lips crashing against lips in a crescendo of intense need. He manages to force the two of you back to an equilibrium. Pairs of hands explore two torsos, his hand flat against your stomach at one moment and tangled in your hair the next. The kiss never breaks, never has to, the two of you staying close enough so that it isn’t necessary.

            He almost pouts as you force yourself once more to the position of control. Almost, because as his bottom lip sticks out, you caress it with your tongue, taking him along an entirely different track and allowing you to push him back against the side of the couch. You sense he is about to protest, but as he opens his mouth to do so, your hands slide down his back, past the hem of his jeans into unexplored territory, turning whatever complaint he was forming into a moan.

            You grin. “Thought so,” and he gives a little sigh that fades into the background of your chuckle as you kiss his neck beneath his chin. “Just strap in for the ride man it’s about to get bumpy,” you add, and you slide your hands even farther down the backs of his thighs, positioning him so that he straddles you and grinding yourself against him. He moans, and you kiss your way slowly down his torso, stopping and hovering, indecision plaguing you. Then, almost imperceptibly, he thrusts towards you.

            You look up, and his eyes are closed, mouth hanging slightly open in anticipation. Still hesitant, you fiddle with the button for a while, causing his eyes to snap open and an approving sigh to escape him. That’s all it takes. The button is undone, the zipper slid down, slowly, teasingly because you enjoy watching him squirm under your touch. Still slow, still patient, you tug down his jeans, almost chuckling as he eagerly wriggles out of them.

            Clearly, patience is not his virtue as he attacks you once more, kicking his jeans off as they dangle from his foot. Before you can tease him about not getting anywhere, or be smug about anything, his own hands are fumbling with the button on your jeans, slipping excitedly. Your hands arrest his, moving them out of the way with practiced ease. While he grumbles in disappointment as you free yourself, he is more than eager to help you out of your own clothes once more.

            With easier access than ever, you slowly drag downwards, resting almost delicately on his crotch. He is tense under the silky fabric of his boxers, and you grin  at his soft croon of approval as you slowly work on relieving that tension. His noises of release turn to those of anticipation as you completely refuse to slip beneath the waistband, instead caressing the outside for as long as you can both stand.

            To your surprise, he makes the next move. He grabs your hand, forcibly thrusting it inside his boxers and you grin, slowly tilting as if to remove it. Growling, he pounces, taking you by surprise as he matches you move for move.

            That’s when your brain short circuits. It’s a blur of his hand teasing and circling and cupping and you hopefully matching and mirroring. You must be doing something right, as his breath shortens and an attractive flush pools in his cheeks, which is a good sign on all counts. Somewhere along the line both of your boxers disappear and then its just you and him and no obstacles, which is more than okay.

            It’s an almost continual battle for control, which you win most of the time, but the constant shifting makes you both fall on the floor with a thud that neither of you notice, aside from the fact that it once again pushes you closer together. Never in a million years would you have thought you’d be fighting for dominance, and it would have taken you twice that to realize how satisfying you would find it.

            You find it very satisfying. There is an added moan as he fights you back, and an added press of desire each time he almost succeeds in beating you back, but nothing can top the thrill of feeling him acquiesce to your persistence, and it’s immensely satisfying to you  when you manage to hold on long enough to slide your lips down and encompass his length, the moan he gives ringing in your ears.

            It doesn’t take long for everything to come to a head, and he erupts in your mouth with a flurry of moans and a sensory overload. When you look up, satisfied, there’s a predatory gleam in your eye that tells you it’s your turn.

            The transition to power is smooth, and you find yourself wondering what made you so submissive, but those thoughts trail off with each kiss he plants firmly on your skin. To your delight, he’s as much of a tease as you are yourself. Though no more arousal is really necessary, he kisses around your inner thighs until a breathy “get on with it” escapes your lips, and he smiles, returning the favor.

            He works with more eagerness than skill, but it’s more than enough for you as he bobs his head willingly and you cry out in release. It finally hits you how tired you are. It’s long past the hour most people would be sleeping, there are no clocks, and really it doesn’t matter.

            Belatedly, you realize his glasses are still askew, dangling from one ear. You reach down, smiling, to fix them for him and he crawls up to lie next to you. You are both still on the floor, you curled into the sofa and he’s curled into you, neither of you willing to exert the effort it would take, and both perfectly comfortable where you lie.

            He is the first to drift off as you gently kiss the top of his head, not out of desire or passion this time, but out of tenderness, and as your only thank you. Then you too abandon all pretenses and sleep beside him. 


End file.
